


The Crazy, Upside Down Love Life of Harley Quinn.

by TheNewCorleone



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Suicide Squad (2016), Suicide Squad (Comics)
Genre: Abuse, Dark Comedy, F/M, Insanity, Little plot, Love, Madness, Mood-Swings, Violence, beatings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNewCorleone/pseuds/TheNewCorleone
Summary: A short little interaction between the the Joker and Harley as she tries to console a very distressed and injured Joker.





	1. Harley's view.

A small trickle of blood ran down The Joker's arm as he smoked a thin white cigarette, the light flickering across his scarred face. The room he sat in was dank and dark, and reeked of mould. The Batman had foiled his latest scheme, and had badly wounded The Joker in the process. No one had dared go into the room, as he was known to be in the bad mood when he didn't manage to "Get to the punchline" as he would say. Eventually, everyone else in the hideout thought they had waited long enough, so they had talked Harley Quinn into trying to console the man. She had been quite reluctant at first, knowing that the man needed his alone time, but had eventually came around to the idea. 

She pushed open the door the bare minimum she needed to get inside, trying to stop as little light from entering the room as possible . As soon as she squeezed in through the opening, she shut the door and stood with her back against it. "W-who, who is there?" He said, standing up and slurring his words. "Batman I'll... I'll... Get you or some other villainous saying..." He said, stumbling around a little as he spoke. "I-its not him puddin', it's me." She said meekly. "Don't try and trick me Batman!" He shouted, "I know the sound of your wings flapping anywhere..." He laughed at this, clearly thinking it was some masterful pun. Harley cringed. She hated seeing him like this, it was like her idol, her mentor had had the brains beaten out of his head. "No Mr. J! It really is me." She pleaded, scared by the way he was holding himself; groggy but ready to fight. In one swift movement he closed in on her, running his hand through her hair. From up close she could see that the source of the blood wasn't his shoulder, but a wide open gash on his head. If it weren't for the almost non existent lighting, she could have sworn she could have seen some exposed skull. "Can't you tell?" He said, almost a whisper. "T-tell what puddin'?" She said, her voice physically wavering. "That I'm," he took a long pause. "Mr J?" She asked again, worried. "JOKING!" He screamed, "can't you tell that I'm joking!" With that he grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her up against the door. "Of course of course puddin'. I know you're joking." She babbled out, trying not to anger him further. He moved closer and whispered again, his face almost touching hers, "I. Don't. Hear. You. Laughing."

"N-no puddin' I'm laughing," she said, choking out a forced laugh, "see?". He stood still for a moment, and her laughter seeming to placate him. He released his grip on her hair a little, and stared into the door madly. "I'm glad you still think I'm funny," he mumbled, "they don't." Punctuating the last word of his sentence he punched the door, making Harley physically flinch. She placed a hand on his chest, the scarred skin gnarled and rough. Another chuckle began to rise from his throat, a deep, ominous sound. "How many times Harley? How many times? I've beaten you, bruised you, cut you, tortured you and hell; I even threw you off a roof." His tirade continued, "But you still come back to me, and I hate you for it." This wasn't the first time the Joker had said these things to Harley, but she couldn't help letting her eyes well up as a lump formed in her throat. "Do you know why I really hate you though?" He went on, "You are despicable, vile, scum, insane, slut, evil, deranged, hilarious, pale, villain! You are tiny sliver of me, reflecting like a mirror, yet attached to my neck like an albatross, never hesitating to clap your wings when it's convenient. And if you don't think that's funny you must not be breathing..." He trailed off, more blood oozing from his wound. "You couldn't write stuff like this..." He finished, breathing heavily. Tears freely ran down her face, and for the first time, Harley Quinn saw the deep pit of the soul of the man she idolised.

She saw every inch of him in a whole new light, he wasn't the downtrodden genius she thought him to be; he wasn't a passionate lover who she held in the dark. He was a puppet master, always pulling the strings. What made her squirm however, wasn't the fact that she saw his dark side when she looked at him, but that when she looked into his eyes she could see everything he had said about her was true. She was just as bad as him, if not worse by staying with him. She couldn't help but start to become very aware of herself. Her tight shorts rubbing against her bleached skin. The holes in her shirt, exposing her to the world. Everything just made her sick to the pit of her stomach. Tears flowed freely now, dripping down to her jawline. "It's funny isn't it?" He spoke again, "I think I've broken every bone in your body twice, and you didn't even complain. Try breaking hearts and that's what gets them where it hurts. I can think of one thing that will take your mind off it though." He said, his voice returning to its usual unnerving patter. "Yeah puddin'?" 

With one brutal jerk, he smacked her face with the back of his hand, throwing his full body weight behind the blow. She spiralled downwards to the floor, clasping at her cheek as it reddened and swelled. "You know what they say..." he said, drawing out the last word into a growl, "A hand across the face is worth two in the bush." He laughed maniacally as he descended upon her, practically tearing her clothes off her. To her surprise, no scream tore from her throat, no gasp as he threw her around like a rag doll. Instead, reflexively she let out the one sound that came natural to her. She laughed. She laughed and laughed and laughed. She laughed as he used her. She laughed as he abused her. She laughed as he hurt her. As she looked down at her naked body, and the bleached white psychopath that was controlling it, she realised why she could never just leave. This was her puddin' and good, bad or ugly, he was her whole world. With him the laughter never stopped. He was the glue that held her fractured mind together. He was her only true friend, and she loved him with every fibre of her being. She only really regained any semblance of conscious thought when she felt his body heat disappear, as he stood up and dressed himself again, sweat dripping from his pale skin as blood still leaked from his head. "Don't get your hopes up Harley," he said, sounding as if the Joker she knew had returned, "you'll only get yourself all worked up. And we all know, what comes up must come down." With that he turned and left the room, leaving the door open for all of the goons to see the state he had left her in. Maybe that was his joke all along, maybe this is what he wanted from the start. To humiliate her to make himself feel better. The sharp point of reality was soon dulled by the wave of comedy coursing through her brain. Two of the goons looked in awe at her ruined body through the door, not daring to enter. "If this is the kind of joke that'll make my puddin' feel better, I'm happy to be the punchline. And it is pretty funny..." The last thought echoed in her head as she giggled her way off into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I feel like I bit off more than I can chew with this one. They are both complex characters and the relationship is totally fucked. But, I committed to writing it, so I might as well post it. Either way, I hope this wasn't too contrived or self-contradictory. 
> 
> Thanks for the read
> 
> -TheNewCorleone


	2. The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The exact same scene as Chapter 1, as told from the Joker's point of view, which is slightly less romantic than Harley's.

Every time his heart beat he could feel blood. It felt good. It was like the evil inside him was leaking out of the hole in his head. Some of the blood dripped onto his arm as he lit another cigarette. The room around him was completely dark, just the way he liked it. It helped him forget how badly he had been beaten by that God-forsaken bat, and stopped him seeing how badly he was injured. He gritted his teeth as a rectangle of bright light appeared at the far end of the room. The door. Someone had come into the room. "Who's there?" He asked, clambering up to his feet, trying to ignore how much the ground lurched underneath his feet. It must've been Batman. "Batman, I'll... I'll... Get you or some other villainous saying..." he growled. Admittedly, it wasn't his finest line, but it was funny enough. He laughed. "I-It's not him puddin', it's me..." a voice penetrated through the darkness. _Puddin'?_ He thought to himself, _Batman must've gone batty. Wait. No. That's Harley. My girl. That freak. Death wish. Must be. Let's go._

He let his body relax a little, and his mouth began to do what it did best and started spewing what he thought was comedy. The ground lurched beneath him, and he was quickly standing in front of her, his hands in her hair. He was still talking, shouting even, and he could see what he was saying was clearly working well. _Time for a little audience participation,_ he thought, grinning internally. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and threw her into the door, the wood creaking satisfyingly. And yet, she wasn't laughing. "I. Don't. Hear. You. Laughing." He said in the most over the top serial killer voice he could muster. That got her laughing; it was music to his ears. Still, even though he had gotten her to bite, but he hadn't quite gotten her where he wanted her.

He kept talking, more subdued now. He saw it was working, so he punched the doorframe. The fist flew inches from her head and hit the bare wood hard, a small splinter biting into the softer skin between the first two knuckles. The true dichotomy of Harley was on display, she flinched but still put her hand on his chest. She couldn't see it, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The hand was as pale as a corpse, but it was hot as a furnace, sending his mind into overdrive. He curled his toes inside his shoes, stretching the leather. _It's time to reel her in._ he thought. He laughed again, adding to the little dramatic scene he had created for himself. He started talking again, and the change on her face was apparent. His voice may have been a blur to his own ears, but to hers it was clearly as sharp as a knife; not yielding blood but tears. Soon he was ranting, and the tears flowed freely from the girl in front of him, who actually quivered as she cried. He let her wallow for a second, and then waited a second longer to really draw it out. _Time for the punchline..._ He thought. 

He ploughed his hand square into the face of the crying girl in front of him as soon as he realised he had stopped talking. She fell like a leaf in autumn, barely making a sound. That was where he had planned to leave it, but seeing her sprawled on the floorboards, eyes wet and legs akimbo, he couldn't resist. He descended upon her, leaving her shirt in tatters and throwing her shorts across the room. Even to his conscious mind, the next few minutes were a blur. All of his pent up aggression and frustration was released as he forced himself on her. Every misplaced trap, every god forsaken Batarang, every time he'd came within an inch's reach of victory. It all melted away; the twitching and spasming girl in front of him soothing all his aches. Once he had finished, he rested on his haunches for a minute to recover his breath. He rolled his eyes _She probably thinks she's had some kind of revelation,_ he thought, then noticed the grin that slowly spread across her face, _Maybe in reading too much into it. Either way, it's just too easy to control this crazy bitch._ He put on his clothes and made sure to give a couple of the goons a particularly smug grin on his way out, the door wide open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When in doubt, write the same story twice. The Joker's version of events I think should be shorter and a bit more distorted, so there you go. 
> 
> Thanks for the read
> 
> \- TheNewCorleone


	3. Comic Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker may have done more damage than he'd anticipated in his last outburst and sets out to try and fix his broken companion

_There._ Thought the joker, tying off the last of the purple thread. _That should do it. All I hope for is to make sides split and what do I get in return? A split head. Not funny._ He had spent a solid fifteen minutes in front of the grimy bathroom mirror, using a blunt needle and some thread pulled from the seam of his jacket to close the gaping wound on his head. The process had resulted in a gash a few inches long, stretching from his green hairline all the way down to his eyebrow. The grotesque mark was framed rather comically by the bright white of his skin, the red flecks of fresh blood and the intermittent knots of uneven purple thread. The Joker smiled, a grin stretching ear to ear reflected in the mirror. _I don't care what he does to me,_ He thought, referring to the Batman, _It's no skin off my nose. But it does seem to be quite a chunk out of my head_. Even with a huge facial wound distorting the shape of his right eye somewhat, the comedy of that statement did not elude the clown prince of crime. 

In the adjoining room, laying on a bed that had seen better days was the Joker's accomplice, the once sane and law abiding girl now known as Harley Quinn. Her slender frame was constrained in a set of red lace underwear. The meagre light from the setting sun danced on her pale white skin, casting long shadows across the frayed silk sheets. The Joker looked out over the scene from the doorway, and cringed. Visually, the scene was nothing less than pure artwork, the perfect body on the bed, the patina on the bed frame, the light breeze blowing through the open window. The whole image was ruined by a noise that to anyone else would have been quite pleasing to the ear. An incessant stream of giggles poured from between the girl's plump red lips. The Joker dug his nails into the exposed wood of the doorframe. He took two confident steps and sat on the bed. She rolled over to face him, her eyes a little glazed over and grinning from ear to ear, giggling all the while. "You do know, that laughing all the time spoils the comic timing don't you you little bimbo?" He asked looking her up and down. She paused for a second as if to speak, but the grin spread across her face, and she resumed her giggling. He ran his hands through her hair softly. She hadn't been right since their little altercation a few days earlier. 

He let his hands drift down to her face. In one swift motion he pinched her nose and covered her mouth. Her eyes grew wide and her hands gripped onto his arms and frantically tried to stop him. He held his position without flinching. No matter how much she struggled he stayed resolute. She began to thrash and squirm on the bed, and only once he saw tears forming in her eyes. He let his hands off her face. She coughed and spluttered, gasping for air. She sat up straight as her lungs strained for air. The Joker remained silent. Her chest heaved for a while, putting considerable strain on her red lace bra, the intricate designs distorting with each breath. The Joker raised a single eyebrow at his companion as she looked up into his eyes. There was a pregnant pause. Harley took a deep breath. The Joker cocked his head to one side, waiting for her response to this attempt on her life. The noise that emerged from here throat was meek at first, barely more than a whisper. Slowly it built to a near deafening crescendo. With red eyes, and tears streaming down her face Harley Quinn laughed. Almost cackling straight into the face of the Joker. He's seen madness before, but this was unsettling. The laugh was almost infectious and he found himself chuckling a little before he reigned himself in. He ran his hand through his hair and gazed at the girl in front of him. She nearly spasmed with laughter, and as much as a small twisted part of his brain was proud, he needed his Harley back.

He paused for a moment. She needed a reality check, and that's just what he was going to give her. He grabbed her by one of her bleached blonde ponytails and hauled her limp body out of the apartment, giving no heed to the giggling girl's attire, or lack thereof. Her led her down a to the parking lot beneath the apartment complex. The two approached a black sedan, and the night guard couldn't help but drool at Harley in her underwear. He thought about moving, but years on the job had taught him which situations were best left alone. With practiced ease, the Joker bundled the girl into the passenger seat, and took his place behind the wheel.

The car sped towards Gotham's second largest bridge, narrowly avoiding collisions at every turn. Harley just laughed. Upon reaching the bridge, he slammed on the brakes, leaving thick black tire tracks behind the car. He leapt out of the car, feet almost slipping on a damp paving stone. Grabbing his accomplice he hurled her towards the railing, the hard metal blighting into her mid section as she collided with it. He forced he to stand on the edge, teetering inches from certain death. Her laughter flowed freely into the cool air. He took a step towards her when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

A black glove, gauntlets of matte black steel, barbs fashioned along the length into silhouettes of wings. The hand that rested on the Jokers shoulder could only belong to one man. "I would be very careful of your next move Joker." Growled the Dark Knight. "Come to tear the face off my skull again Bats?" Asked the Joker through gritted teeth. "That depends on what you're planning on doing with her." Said the voice emanating from the masked figure. "What can I say Batman? Her little comedy routine has taken somewhat of a... dive. So I thought I'd deal out a little poetic justice. So there you go, you're up to date with current..." He replied, gesturing to the river and grinning a little, "events." A strong breeze blew and Harley began to wobble uncontrollably. In an instant Batman threw the Joker to the ground and grabbed the girl from the edge. Grabbing hold of Harley and looking deep into her glassy eyes as she laughed, a look of pure horror spread across the visible portion of Batman's face. "What have you done to her you monster?" Shouted the enraged vigilante. He'd seen the Joker's work before, but nothing like this. Rage got the better of him and he swung for the clown prince of crime, a gloved fist reopening the wound on his head. Several fists hammered down onto the Joker's hard skull. "What's the matter Bats?" Gurgled the Joker through bubbles of blood and spit "Can't take a joke?" His question was quickly silenced by another downpour of fists on his face.

Through her slightly teary eyes Harley observed the scene. A black shape. Blood. The gurgling laugh of her partner leaking from the wounds in his face. Suddenly it all became too real. She felt the cold of the pavement on her bare back and the way the delicate lace of her underwear snagged here and there on the rough ground below her. She felt her diaphragm ache with every breath and the cramp in the muscles in her face as she finally stopped smiling. Then she realised what was happening. If she didn't do something now, her Joker would be reduced to a red stain on the ground. She clambered to her feet, scrambling to find anything to help with. She lurched towards the Joker's car, hands quickly scrabbling a round the back seat. There was nothing, a few old magazines and a lighter sat in the back seat, no use to her. In the dim light she caught a glimpse of metal in the footwell and her heart fluttered. Her thin fingers gripped the thing and pulled. From underneath the front seat came a gleaming tire iron, reflecting a distorted image of her face in it's chrome surface. Without a second of hesitation she found herself closing the gap between her and what she now realised was the legendary Batman. In an instant she was driving the tire iron into the back of the black mask. The Dark Knight slumped after just one solid blow. Leaving the caped crusader slumped in the gutter she turned to face he Joker. "Not so funny now, is it?" He managed to say, despite most of his face either being swollen of soaked in gore. A few tears began to form in the corners of her eyes as she dragged him to the passenger seat of the car.

The two began the drive back to the Joker's hideout, only this time Harley took the wheel. The Joker was mostly unconscious, but had a few lucid moments here and there. She felt his hand on her leg. "You made quite the splash today, didn't you?" He croaked quietly. She looked over at him. "You never were actually going to throw me in the river were you mister J?" She asked, flicking her eyes between the road and her damaged partner. He grinned, several of his teeth chipped or broken. "I choose my words very carefully Harley, and very rarely change my punchlines. Think about it." His head sagged as he drifted back into unconsciousness, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. Harley just set her jaw and drove in into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, all better. Not sure where I'll take this from here but it should be good to see where it goes.
> 
> Thanks for the read.
> 
> _TheNewCorleone_


End file.
